


Polish the Stars

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Sleep of the Just [3]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was getting more and more difficult to hold onto the hope that Yuri was out there somewhere, alive. Flynn wasn't entirely sure what kept that tenuous flame lit. Belief in Yuri's strength, or disbelief that he could be taken away so easily? Was he stubborn, or merely foolish? He wanted to think that, if Yuri was actually dead, then he would know for certain. He wanted to believe that the bond they had, which had lasted them through so many trials, was strong enough for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polish the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This one was inspired by Shel Silverstein's "Somebody has to go polish the stars" poem. I've always liked that one. =)
> 
> Seems like I explore Flynn's thoughts an awful lot when Yuri's my favorite. Oh, well. Next one in this set is for Yuri.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Another day had passed. The ships put into port with nothing to show for their efforts, and Flynn disembarked with a heavy heart. It was getting more and more difficult to hold onto the hope that Yuri was out there somewhere, _alive_. Flynn wasn't entirely sure what kept that tenuous flame lit. Belief in Yuri's strength, or disbelief that he could be taken away so easily? Was he stubborn, or merely foolish? He wanted to think that, if Yuri was actually dead, then he would know for certain. He wanted to believe that the bond they had, which had lasted them through so many trials, was strong enough for that. He didn't know what the world would be like without Yuri. He didn't want to find out.

Flynn made his way back to the palace in a haze of exhaustion and pain. His shoulder ached with every beat of his heart. Perhaps if he had taken the time to rest it would have fully healed from the injury he'd suffered at Zaude. Instead, he'd taken up the search for Yuri just as soon as he'd heard his friend was missing.

Ever since Mantaic, Flynn had been questioning Yuri's decisions and his own reactions, second guessing himself and wondering if either of them had done the right thing. He'd been weighing Yuri and everything they had between them against the sort of justice they'd wanted for the world. Loss had provided a harsh clarity to his priorities. Yuri's absence and the uncertainty surrounding it left Flynn drained. More than the hours spent searching, it was _not knowing_ what had become of Yuri that left him worn out. Even during the times they'd fought, even when he hadn't been able to justify Yuri's actions, he still had never felt so empty.

He let his feet bring him back to his room in the palace. He took off his armor automatically, and only paused for a moment when he realized he had returned by force of habit to his previous quarters. Officially, he was now housed in the Commandant's suite. His old room hadn't been reassigned, however, and he didn't bother leaving.

_When Yuri comes back, he'll be able to find me here_ , his tired mind suggested. Yuri had never been to his new quarters. He could find this room, though. He'd come to visit before, once or twice. He'd sat on the bed, legs stretched out into the square of sunlight from the window.

Flynn dropped heavily onto the bed and sat a moment. The memory slipped from his mind, and he let himself fall over sideways. He buried his face in sheets that still smelled faintly of soap from the laundry. What had they talked about that day? He couldn't remember. He could barely focus enough to try.

_Yuri.... Where are you?_

“Here!”

The night was clear and cool. Grass rustled around him as Flynn sat up. The hilltop was empty, an expanse of silvery light and shifting shadows. A soft breeze created waves in the sea of tall, thick grass, and the undulations flowed down into the valley where they washed up against the walls of the capital. Zaphias gleamed within the circle of its barrier. It outshone the stars, as if the city had swallowed the moon out of the sky. It was the brightest thing in the night, the brightest thing in the entire colorless world. Flynn turned away, searching for Yuri.

“Where did you go? I can't see you.”

“Where are you looking?” Echoes of his laughter spilled out into the night. “Up here!”

A sudden gust tore through the leaves of the tree that crowned the hill as Flynn turned to look up into its dark branches. Yuri was barely more than another shadow where he sat perched on the highest limb likely to hold him. He smiled down at Flynn, though the expression was veiled in darkness.

“It's about time you woke up. Come on.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“We promised, didn't we? Come help me polish the stars.”

“Help you _what_?”

Yuri turned away and climbed higher. “I've been waiting for you to wake up. I can't do this alone.”

“How can I help?” He circled the tree, but couldn't find a branch low enough to grab. There was no handy knot where he could get a foothold to boost himself up. How had Yuri gotten up there?

“Grab one and shine it up.”

“I can't—”

“Here.”

He saw Yuri reach up through the canopy of leaves. His arm was silhouetted against the inky blue sky with its dusting of dull stars. Flynn watched as Yuri's fingers raked across the night, catching up stars that gathered like pebbles in his hands. Some slipped from between his fingers or were knocked loose to rain down upon the hill. Flynn heard them fall through the tree, pattering against the leaves. One landed near his feet, and he almost couldn't find it again beneath the nodding leaves of grass. Only luck allowed him to spot it winking beneath a pass of his hands, and he scooped it up out of the dirt before he lost sight of its dying glow.

The star was the size of his thumbnail, a rough little pebble of dull silver that pulsed with a weak inner light. He gathered a corner of his cape around it, gently scrubbing away the tarnish. Soon, it shone in his fingers, a diamond of fire the color of new fallen snow. Flynn held it up against the dark sky, marveling at the change. His focus darted back and forth between the single star he'd restored, and the countless others needing his attention.

“It's too much, Yuri. We'll never finish like this.” There were too many stars to polish them all one by one. There had to be a way to brighten them all at once.

“I don't know any other way. I have to do what I can.” Once more, Yuri stretched up toward the heavens. He was reaching for Brave Vesperia, but it hung just beyond his grasp. The tree shook as he climbed higher.

“Come down. Those branches can't hold your weight.”

“It's okay, Flynn. I have to do this.”

The wind was picking up again. It whipped through the leaves and set the branches to swaying. Their eerie creaking sounded almost like whispers.

“Please, Yuri, come down! You're going to fall!”

He knew it with absolute certainty. As Yuri stretched for the star once more, Flynn desperately tried to position himself beneath his friend, hoping to catch him. No matter where he moved around the tree, however, Yuri was always leaning out away from him. His face was fixed upward, eyes trained on the star. He made no sound when he fell.

“ _Yuri_!”

Flinging himself forward, Flynn rounded the tree in time to see Yuri plummet into the grass with a sharp splash. Droplets of water hit his face, and a wave crested with foam rose from the spot where Yuri had disappeared from his sight. It was followed by another and another, each bigger than the last. They rushed out over the hill, over the grass and into the night. The water shoved Flynn back. It lifted him off his feet and carried him away from Yuri, down the hill, down to the moon-bright city of Zaphias and the safety of its barrier. He struggled and shouted Yuri's name, choking on seawater, desperate for any sign of his friend, desperate for a breath of air. He was choking, drowning, losing the fight, losing Yuri! He couldn't cry out, couldn't breathe—!

Flynn gasped as he toppled onto the floor and woke from the dream. He lay on his back for several long minutes, chest heaving as he coughed and tried to catch his breath. By the time he sat up, he was shaking and his teeth were chattering. He hadn't changed before passing out on the bed, and his clothes had been soaked through with sea spray. They clung to him, icy against his skin, and he shuddered as he remembered the dream and the sensation of drowning. He was made sick with the fear that Yuri's last moments may have been filled with that same struggle to draw breath.

He pulled himself to his knees, then sagged beside the bed, fists clenched tight in the rumpled sheets.

“ _Yuri_....”

His friend's name emerged on a shaky breath. Flynn could feel tears forming, burning behind his eyes. He forced them back. It wasn't time for that. He hadn't given up. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger.

“I know you're alive, Yuri. I _know_ you are. Hold on. Come back to me if you can. Wait for me if you have to.”

Miserable and exhausted, he rested his forehead against the bed and clung to his stubborn belief in his equally stubborn friend. They'd made a promise together, hadn't they? Yuri couldn't just leave that unfinished.

“You can't give up, Yuri. I can't do this without you.”

Once the night passed, he would be out with the dawn, searching. He refused to give up hope.


End file.
